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Telegraph
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
The Julie Christie film that scandalised Sixties Britain is back – you must see it
When film fans think about the swinging Sixties in cinema, it tends to be with almost Austin Powers-esque nostalgia. One remembers the Beatles gaily dashing about in A Hard Day's Night, Sean Connery's brooding charisma as James Bond and, if you will, the broader delights of the perennially popular Carry On series. Yet many of British film's most talented film-makers, writers and actors also collaborated on films that are both quintessential time capsules of what a certain kind of moneyed bohemian, artistic life was like six decades ago, and also stand up well today. One such example of this kind of picture was John Schlesinger's Darling, which was first released in September 1965 and is now being reissued in cinemas for its 60th anniversary. If you haven't seen it, it is entirely worth getting to your nearest art house cinema and savouring. Sexually charged and transgressive even today, it is the study of a bored, amoral fashion model, Diana Scott (Julie Christie), who divides her self-interested attentions between two older and successful men: the kindly Melvyn Bragg-esque Robert Gold (Dirk Bogarde) and the high-powered and equally ambitious advertising executive Miles Brand (Laurence Harvey). Diana, naturally, betrays both of them, as she has betrayed everyone else who she comes into contact with, but the bed-hopping storyline is not the central appeal of the picture. Instead, Frederic Raphael's Oscar-winning screenplay memorably conjures up an anti-romantic vision of Swinging London where everyone is on the make, and where personal integrity is subsumed to beauty, charm and ambition. Even the film's title is ironic. Schlesinger knew from the outset that the picture was going to be the opposite of the light-hearted optimism of A Hard Day's Night and other quintessential Sixties films. 'I think that our attitude to Darling was a good deal more cynical than merely an optimistic look at Swinging London,' he would admit. The idea for Darling came from a conversation with the journalist Godfrey Winn, who played himself in Billy Liar. Winn asked the director whether he was at all interested in making a film that was based on real life, and when Schlesinger replied that the idea hadn't occurred to him, the journalist told him about what the director called 'an extremely cynical arrangement that was publicised after someone's suicide, in which there was a girl who was being kept by a syndicate of people, people in showbusiness and banking and so forth, and they all had access to her in a flat. One day, she despaired at her predicament, and threw herself out of a window.' Diana does not end the film in similarly fatal fashion, instead being married off to an Italian prince, but nobody would mistake the eventual resolution for a cheery one; it concludes with Diana, betrayed in her turn by a vengeful Robert, leaving Britain for Rome and a new, hollow life there. The ending is an ironic inversion of that of Schlesinger's previous picture, Billy Liar, in which the protagonist is unable to flee to London with his dream girl, but had it not been for the now-forgotten actress Topsy Jane, Darling may never have existed. Jane was originally cast in the brief but pivotal role of Liz, Billy Liar's apparent means of escape, but she dropped out with mental health issues. This necessitated her replacement by the then-unknown Christie, who walked away with the picture in true a-star-is-born fashion. However, it was by no means certain that she would appear in the picture, both for reasons of commercial viability and her own initial distaste for the starring role. The first choice was Shirley MacLaine, who was a far better-known actress – her performance in 1960's The Apartment had been Oscar-nominated – but it was felt that Diana should be played by someone British. As Schlesinger later said: 'We always had Julie Christie in mind for the part, but she was an unknown quantity then, and there was a good deal of resistance… Julie was very perturbed by the part, because she said it wasn't like her. So I said 'You're an actress, for God's sake, you can understand where she's coming from, this character.' Christie – a professional to her fingertips, as she has remained throughout a long and illustrious career – did not need to be told twice. In any case, the screenplay that Christie was presented with had gone through a tortuous creative process. The initial idea had come from Schlesinger, who came up with the storyline in collaboration with the film's producer Joseph Janni. Yet the director was not a proven screenwriter himself, and so he turned to the modish young writer Raphael, who had had some success the previous year with the black comedy Nothing But The Best. The script that they came up with was originally entitled Woman On Her Way, but this was felt to be excessively on the nose, so the simpler, more effective current title was then decided upon. 'The writing of Darling lasted a very long time,' Raphael would recall. 'I started working with John and Joe early in 1962, and the film was eventually shot in 1965, which was a very long gap. I didn't get paid, because I didn't ask for money, which was foolish of me. I got quite tired of it, because John kept saying 'They don't like the script, dear', so we buggered off to Greece to work together.' Raphael would shortly experience his own small-scale betrayal, which would, in turn, affect the misanthropy which seeped into the film's script. 'They then got someone else to do some work on the script, and as I hadn't been paid, I took a rather sour view of this, because I thought we were friends, but there aren't any friends in the business, and I should have known that. Besides, the work was dreadful, and virtually none of it ended up in the film.' Darling eventually began filming in August 1964 in the appropriately swinging cities of Paris, London and Rome, but production was not straightforward. The openly gay Schlesinger and the closeted Bogarde conducted a love affair off-set, and Harvey, who was rumoured to be bisexual himself, was deeply conscious of the fact that his casting in an extended cameo was the major reason that the production had managed to raise its budget of around £400,000. He had become an international star with his role in the 1959 picture Room At The Top, in which he had played an ambitious social climber not a million miles away from a male Diana Scott, but had failed to capitalise on his Oscar-nominated role since, and was desperately in need of a hit. Bogarde, meanwhile, was the fourth choice for the role of Gold, after Paul Newman, Gregory Peck and Cliff Robertson had all turned it down. The character was then rewritten as British, and the versatile and talented actor – who was still tainted by the fall-out from the controversy behind his 1961 Victim – assumed the role. Schlesinger had more fun casting the minor parts – he took a cameo as a theatre director; the Inkling and academic Hugo Dyson appears briefly as a writer; and a real-life Spanish aristocrat, José Luis de Vilallonga, 9 th Marquess of Castellbell, plays the Italian prince who marries Diana – but the film was frequently on the verge of collapse due to a lack of funding. Only Bogarde's reluctant agreement to take a pay cut and David Lean's decision to cast Christie in the sought-after role of Lara in Dr Zhivago, which both created a buzz around her and, crucially, injected money into the production because of her needing to be bought out of her existing contract with the producer Janni, saw it proceed to completion. The jostling egos – Christie aside – and general air of one-upmanship may have fed into the film's uniquely claustrophobic atmosphere. But for Raphael, it made for a miserable experience. 'I'd seen the rushes in London and said that they were dreadful and wrecking the whole film, and I was right,' he said. 'Most of the stuff I'd seen was never in the movie, with Dirk, who was very good in the film, looking like a spurned hairdresser. He did say to me on one occasion 'I find this character very weak in this scene', and I found myself saying to him 'Why the f___ do you think we asked you to do it?'' The typically waspish screenwriter said of the star: 'Julie was extraordinary but not interesting. She couldn't say her lines to save her life and if she could mispronounce anything, she would. But in that movie, she does have an extraordinary quality – all the rawness of her backstory fed into it, and she was that girl.' Christie, perhaps mindful of the knowledge that the film's success rested on her slender shoulders, was very nervous in her first lead role, and often took refuge on the set to fall asleep. It fell to Bogarde to act as a friend and mentor to her, and in his memoir Snakes and Ladders, he wrote of Christie that 'She has more magnetism or, if you like, star quality than any actress I have worked with.' When the picture finally finished production, it was selected for an unusual accolade, and premiered at the Moscow International Film Festival on July 16 1965. If you had wished any film to symbolise the downside of the corrupt and materialistic West, you could hardly have asked for anything more effective. Its button-pushing sexual content was not just near the knuckle for the period, but positively shocking. One talked-about scene showed Diana and Miles attending a cross-dressing bisexual sex show in Paris, which is depicted coyly by today's standards but with enough detail for it to be clear what's going on. Then there's the almost casual revelation that Diana has decided to abort Robert's baby – at a time when abortion was illegal in Britain - rather than be tied down by the responsibility. Little wonder that he rounds on her, sneering 'Your idea of fidelity is not having more than one man in the bed at the same time. You're a whore, baby, that's all. Just a whore' and calling her 'a filthy little bitch.' Schlesinger also included a gay character, in the form of the photographer Malcolm, who is allowed to eye up a good-looking waiter, only to be reprimanded by Diana: 'We are not complicating our holiday with any disgusting sexcapades.' Unsurprisingly, the film had to be cut for both the UK and American release – it still received an X rating in this country – and the unexpurgated version was not released until a DVD release in 2007, which included shots of a man wearing a woman's corset and an extended version of the sex party. It's still strong enough to receive a 15 rating, even now. When it eventually premiered in edited form London in September, it received excellent reviews, all of which concurred that it captured the dark underbelly of the progressive society, and won several awards, including both a Bafta and Oscar for Christie. (Had it not had the BBFC -mandated cuts, it is more likely that it would have been greeted with protests.) One climatic scene in particular, in which Diana, amidst a breakdown, furiously tears off her clothes and jewellery, attracted attention (and was deleted from the initial American release of the film). Christie had not wanted to perform the scene, which required her to appear nude, but Schlesinger and Raphael argued that it was the depth of the character's descent, and thus integral to the picture. She eventually agreed, and the results made her a star. From being an unknown just a couple of years ago, she became perhaps the single most talked-about and iconic woman in Britain, a celebrity on a scale several times greater than even Diana managed. Her own life continued to contain parallels with that of her character – swap out Gold and Brand for the actors Terence Stamp and, notoriously, Warren Beatty – but she displayed rare acuity when it came to the parts that she took later, a legacy of the kudos that this role gave her. Some may suggest that Darling has dated, and that its cynicism and modishness (as well as nods to fashionable directors like Jean-Luc Godard and Michelangelo Antonioni) mark it as a film of its time. They may be right, but it also retains a strange, almost transfixing power, largely because of its lead. It was the beginning of a legendary career for her, and she deserved all the acclaim that she received. And Christie herself retained something of the spirit of Darling, after everything. As she told this paper in 2008: 'I honestly don't see anything wrong with hedonism. Life is for having fun with.' Diana may well have agreed with her. The 60th anniversary restoration of Darling is in cinemas from May 30 Beyond Darling: Julie Christie's five greatest roles 1. Billy Liar (1963) As the free-spirited, charismatic Liz, Christie may only be on screen for around ten minutes or so in what was her breakthrough role, but she bursts into cinema as an irrepressible and wholly likeable force of nature. The greatest question for many viewers is why, exactly, Tom Courtenay's fantasist Billy doesn't seize the opportunity to jump onto the train with Liz and embrace a new and happy life, rather than remaining locked up in his fertile imagination. His loss, however, was cinema's gain. 2. Doctor Zhivago (1965) Along with Darling, Christie's great breakthrough role was as the love interest Lara in David Lean's mega-budget adaptation of Boris Pasternak's bestselling novel about the after-effects of the Russian Revolution. Amidst the endless snow, Maurice Jarre's schmaltzy but unforgettable theme tune and scene-stealing performances from character actors (her old inamorata Courtenay among them), Christie manages to anchor the film by playing Lara as simultaneously wholly comprehensible and effervescently mysterious. To be frank, one would launch a revolution just for her. 3. Far From The Madding Crowd (1967) The Kinks sang on Waterloo Sunset about how 'Terry meets Julie, Waterloo station, every Friday night' and the song, written about Christie and her then-lover Terence Stamp, immortalised them as a quintessential Swinging London couple. It was inevitable, then, that they would star opposite each other in Nicolas Roeg 's excellent Thomas Hardy adaptation. Christie was cast as the strong-willed and independent Bathsheba Everdene and Stamp, appropriately enough, appeared as the dashing but venal Sergeant Troy. Roeg managed to make the film both wholly of its time and thoroughly contemporary, and Stamp's scarlet military tunic and virile swagger inspired a thousand hipsters – as well as the entire aesthetic of The Libertines. 4. Don't Look Now (1973) Christie reunited with Roeg for one of cinema's greatest ghost stories, a uniquely haunting study of loss and mystery set in a never more sinister Venice. Although Christie's part was largely a supporting one, with the late, great Donald Sutherland in the central role of her grieving husband convinced that he sees the apparition of her late daughter, they both featured in the film's most (in)famous moment, a lengthy sex scene shot in Roeg's signature time-jumping fashion. It dared to portray married love – and that taking place after terrible loss – in a sensual and exciting fashion, rather than the usual jokey or negligible treatment. It thus led to persistent rumours that the actors got carried away and ended up making love on camera for real. Roeg never denied this with the authority that he should have. 5. Away From Her (2006) Christie became much less prolific as an actress in the early 2000s, and today has apparently retired from cinema. She has only made a handful of on-screen appearances in the past two decades, and the most recent of these came in 2012, in Robert Redford's The Company You Keep. However, she did have one final great role in her, and that was as the Alzheimer's-afflicted Fiona in Sarah Polley's affecting and deeply compassionate study of loss in life. She was deservedly Oscar-nominated for her vanity-free performance, in which she eloquently conveys the indignity and horror of mental decline. If she never makes another film, this stands as a magnificent and resonant testament to her remarkable gifts as an actress.
The Guardian
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘Julie Christie is magnetic': on the set of party girl classic Darling
Julie Christie had made little headway as an actor until she was cast in the comedy Billy Liar (after Topsy Jane, the original choice, had to pull out). The film's director John Schlesinger (pictured, right) was impressed with her performance and offered her the lead role in his next film. All images: © 1965 StudioCanal Films Ltd. Images preserved and supplied by the BFI Archive Darling was a then-daring account of a 1960s party girl, Diana Scott, and her seemingly effortless rise to the top – only to find emptiness and disillusion there. Christie was reportedly incredibly nervous about her first lead role, and was often found asleep on the set, exhausted by the demanding schedule Christie got on well with Dirk Bogarde, right, who played her lover, TV presenter Robert Gold. In his memoir Snakes and Ladders, Bogarde wrote: 'She has more magnetism or, if you like, star quality than any actress I have worked with' Laurence Harvey, pictured right, was the film's other male lead, playing sleazy adman Miles Brand, who picks Scott as the 'Happiness girl' and takes her to a live sex show in Paris. Harvey, who had become a major star in 1958 with Room at the Top, was the first big name to commit to the film, ensuring the production could get off the ground Paul Newman, Gregory Peck and Cliff Robertson had already turned down the role of Gold, which was originally written as an American journalist before Bogarde, left, came aboard Schlesinger had a handful of substantial films under his belt before Darling, and was very much identified with the British new wave of the early 1960s. After a brief acting career, he emerged from the BBC as a documentary-maker, winning a Bafta for Terminus, his short film about Waterloo station. A Kind of Loving and Billy Liar were successful examples of the 'kitchen-sink' style, and he would go on to work with Christie again on Far From the Madding Crowd in 1967 Producer Joseph Janni, left, is one of the unsung heroes of the British new wave; born in Italy, he made a string of films with Schlesinger (including Billy Liar, Sunday Bloody Sunday and Yanks) and gave Ken Loach his feature film directing debut with Poor Cow in 1967 Christie went on to win the best actress Oscar in 1966, beating (among others) Julie Andrews for The Sound of Music. Frederic Raphael won the best original screenplay Oscar, and there was a third Oscar for costume designer Julie Harris. The Sound of Music, however, triumphed in its other contests with Darling, winning best picture and best director for Robert Wise Roland Curram (far right at front, in sunglasses) was cast as gay photographer Malcolm, whom Diana takes to Italy when she shoots a chocolate commercial – and they each spend a night with the same good-looking waiter Darling contains some fun casting, including Schlesinger himself as a theatre director auditioning Scott, and academic Hugo Dyson as a writer interviewed by Gold. But possibly the most intruiging is José Luis de Vilallonga, AKA the 9th Marquess of Castellbell (pictured, in tie), a real-life Spanish aristocrat, who played the Italian prince whom Scott eventually marries. Vilallonga had a decent acting career, appearing in Les Amants, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Cléo from 5 to 7, and Juliet of the Spirits among many others Production was nearly abandoned when funding dried up, forcing Janni to ask Bogarde to take a pay cut. However, the shoot was kept afloat after David Lean decided to cast Christie, on the strength of a private viewing of Darling's footage, in the much sought-after role of Lara in Doctor Zhivago. As Christie was under contract to Janni, the producer received 50% of the fee and channelled the money straight back into Darling, thereby saving the day. Bogarde, right, (with Schlesinger, middle) was also up for a role in Zhivago, but wasn't cast Christie was reportedly unhappy at the prospect of the film's climactic nude scene, in which she was called on to smash up the living area of the Italian castle where her character lived, and then throw off her jewellery and clothes. She eventually agreed after both Schlesinger and Raphael convinced her it was necessary
Daily Mail
19-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Tragic fate of 'the world's most beautiful boy': Actor now looks VERY different after cult 70s film that turned him into a sex symbol at 15 ruined his life and plunged him into alcoholism
When he was only 15, Bjorn Andrésen was declared the 'most beautiful boy in the world' after Luchino Visconti cast the unassuming Swedish teen as Tadzio in Death in Venice. The embodiment of 'pure beauty', Bjorn was handpicked by the Italian filmmaker to play the sailor-suited adolescent opposite Dirk Bogarde in one of the world's most famous queer films. His turn as Tadzio, whose youthful, boyish looks drove Bogarde's character - an ailing, ageing composer - to temptation, catapulted Bjorn to stardom and gained him international recognition. The Italian auteur's film also 'f***ed up a lot of things' for Bjorn, whose blond-locked, almost unearthly beauty earned him comparisons to Michelagenelo's David when he was still a child. Bjorn, now in his seventies, condemned Visconti, who died in 1976, as a 'cultural predator' who allegedly exploited his looks and sexualised him to promote the movie -before throwing him to the wolves. The moniker became a millstone around Bjorn's neck, as the actor admitted Death in Venice remained the unmoving grey cloud that totally eclipsed his life. Five decades after Visconti hailed his Tadzio as the world's most beautiful boy, Bjorn was relegated to life of relative obscurity - marked also by a profound personal sadness and mental health struggles. In 2021, it was reported that Bjorn was living alone in a squalid flat, chain smoking and bickering with his long-suffering, on-off girlfriend and getting into trouble with his landlord for leaving his gas stove on. He also looked world's away from the fresh-faced teenager that inspired a generation of manga artists and became one of Japan's first Western idols, with Bjorn now sporting a perpetually nicotine-stained beard and long, flowing white hair. Born in Stockholm, Sweden, Bjorn was 10 when his mother, Barbro, died by suicide before he was sent to live with his maternal grandparents. His bohemian mother had never told him the identity of his father and, before her death, made no secret that she wanted more from life than being mother to Björn and his half-sister. Growing up, Bjorn had no interest in acting and wanted, instead, to be a musician but his grandmother continued to send him to auditions in the hope that at least one of her grandchildren would become famous. That was how Bjorn found himself standing before Visconti, whose search for Tadzio's 'pure beauty' had taken him across Europe - but to no avail. A documentary about Bjorn's life - titled 'The Most Beautiful Boy in the World' - includes black-and-white footage of his audition for Death in Venice in a room full of young boys and casting directors. 'How old is he? Older right?' Visconti asks a Swedish-speaking casting director as Andrésen poses self-consciously for them at a casting call in Stockholm one chilly day in February 1970. 'Yes, a little. He's fifteen,' the casting director replies. 'Fifteen? Very beautiful,' Visconti observes. 'Could you ask him to undress?' Bjorn, visibly taken aback, eventually strips down to his trunks, as a photographer snaps away and a delighted Visconti makes clear he has found exactly what he was looking for. Looking back on his audition, Bjorn told Vanity Fair, Visconti 'sexualised me' and admitted he 'wasn't comfortable' taking his clothes off. 'When they asked me to take off my shirt, I wasn't comfortable,' he said. 'I wasn't prepared for that. 'I remember when he posed me with one foot against the wall, I would never stand like that. When I watch it now, I see how that son of a b**** sexualised me.' The 15-year-old was signed to the film and paid $4,000 for his role in Death in Venice - one that, he had no idea, would define him for the rest of his life. Filming was an incredibly isolating experience, as Visconti reportedly instructed the crew to stay away from Bjorn. In his 1983 memoir, Bogarde, who played the musician enamoured by the young Polish boy in Death in Venice, described the strict rules Visconti imposed on Bjorn to preserve his beauty. He was, Bogarde said, 'never allowed to go into the sun, kick a football with his companions, swim in the polluted sea, or do anything which might have given him the smallest degree of pleasure'. Bjorn 'suffered it all splendidly,' the late British actor revealed. The reason for Visconti's unyielding rules would later be revealed as he unveiled Bjorn as 'the most beautiful boy in the world' at the London premiere of Death in Venice that was attended by Queen Elizabeth II and Princess Anne. A marketing ploy, the remark piqued such interest in Bjorn that he was turned into an overnight celebrity with the world's most fawned-over face. 'It felt like swarms of bats around me. It was a living nightmare,' Andrésen previously of the fame and attention for which he was woefully underprepared. 'I was a sex object - Big Game.' The 2021 documentary about Bjorn's life, which charts his rise to fame and its life-altering consequences, raised unsettling questions about the ethics of a production that has become a cult gay film. Bogarde was openly homosexual as was Visconti, who said his male lovers included Italian director Franco Zeffirelli and Umberto II, the last King of Italy. He was 63 when he made Death In Venice (based on a novella by German writer Thomas Mann, also gay) with a mostly gay crew, too. But Bjorn wasn't gay — and even if he had been, he had only just turned 15 when he auditioned. Far too young to be turned into a sex object whom Visconti took to gay nightclubs and who later became a trophy for rich Paris men who lavished him with presents and meals so they could parade him around. After Death in Venice premiered at the Cannes Film Festival, Visconti and his friends reportedly took Bjorn to a gay nightclub where he felt the waiters and guests leered at him. 'It was extremely uncomfortable,' he described the outing. 'I think [Visconti] was testing me to see if I was gay.' He recalled drinking himself in a stupor 'just to shut it out' but it was too late to turn a blind eye to his newfound status as a sex symbol and - for some - a gay icon. After Death in Venice, the then-young actor was inundated with sackfuls of fan mail from besotted teenagers and grown men alike According to Yokogaomag, Death in Venice sparked an intense wave of Bjorn fandom in Japan that eventually made him one of the country's first Western idols. When Bjorn visited the country to promote the film, before Death in Venice was released across Japan in October 1971, he was met with screaming female fans in scenes comparable to Beatlemania and, in fact, recorded a couple of songs. Hailed as the 'pinnacle of beauty' in Japan, Bjorn's delicate features captured the imagination of legendary manga artists, including Riyoko Ikeda who modelled the character of Lady Oscar in her series 'The Rose of Versailles' on his likeness. Back in Europe, he continued acting but struggled to shake off his 'world's most beautiful boy' moniker. In 1976, he came to Paris for a film. It never came to anything but he stayed a year despite being penniless. His lifestyle was funded by a string of rich men who showered him with expensive meals, gave him a 500-franc weekly allowance and even provided him with a flat, the 2021 documentary revealed, as Bjorn admitted he was 'bloody naive' about their intentions towards him. 'I must have been bloody naive because it was sort of like: 'Wow! Everyone's so nice,' ' he reflected. 'I don't think they treated me out of the kindness of their heart ... I felt like [a] wandering trophy.' While the documentary doesn't explore Bjorn's own sexuality, he previously told The Daily Mail he felt a fleeting confusion about his sexuality in his 20s and had one homosexual experience. 'I did it more or less to be able to say I'd tried it but it's not really my cup of tea. It wasn't more serious than that,' he said at the time. Bjorn has maintained he's always been attracted to women, but struggled to form relationships with them as he grew older. After growing used to clicking his fingers and having girls come running, he admits he never learnt how to flirt. Even so, he married a poet named Suzanna Roman after they had a daughter, Robine, in 1984. However, tragedy again struck three years later when their nine-month-old son Elvin, died. Bjorn had been lying in bed beside him, insensible after a night out drinking, while his wife took their daughter to kindergarten. Bjorn fell into a deep depression after Elvin's death as he blamed himself for being an inadequate father. 'Their diagnosis is sudden infant death syndrome but my diagnosis is lack of love,' he said in the documentary. 'I descended into depression, alcohol, self-destruction in all ways imaginable - it was an ego trip. Poor me, me, me.' He disappeared from public view so completely that some thought he was dead until he re-emerged in 2003, when a photo of him was used to illustrate the front cover of The Beautiful Boy, Germaine Greer's ode to the beauty of young boys. Bjorn publicly complained he'd never given permission and said, having been exposed to it, adult lust - by men or women - for adolescents was nothing to celebrate. According to the documentary, Bjorn still suffered from depression at the time as its makers, Kristina Lindström and Kristian Petri, caught up with the man who was once the world's most beautiful boy. Reflecting on that fateful day that forever altered the course of his life, and Visconti's role in shaping it, the greying Bjorn said: 'Life and career-wise, it f***ed up a lot of things'.
